The Mountain Girl Part 50

"How do you mean? I'm a stranger in England, you know."

"Yes, ma'm. If they make polite visits, they go about tea time, ma'm.

But if it's parish visits, or on business, or on people they know very well, they may go in the morning, ma'm."

"And when is tea time here?"

"Why, ma'm, everybody has their tea in the afternoon along four or thereabouts, and sees their friends."

"Can I get a carriage here, do you know?"

"I can get a pony carriage, ma'm. We hires it when we need it, only we must speak for it early, or it may be taken."

"Oh! Then will you please speak for it soon? I would like to have it."

"Yes, ma'm. Will you drive yourself, ma'm, or shall I ask for a boy?"

"Oh! I don't know. I can drive--but--"

"They are gentle ponies, ma'm. Any one can drive them."

"Yes, but I don't know the way."

"Yes, ma'm. Where would you like to go, ma'm?"

"To Daneshead Castle."

The bright-cheeked maid opened her round eyes wider and looked at Ca.s.sandra with new interest. "But, ma'm,--that is quite far, though the ponies are smart, too."

"How far is it?"

"It's quite a bit away from here, ma'm; you'd have to start at two or thereabouts. I could take you myself if mother would let me, and tell you all the interesting places, but"--the girl looked at her shrewdly, a quickly withdrawn glance--"that depends on how well acquainted you are there, ma'm. Maybe you'd like better to have a man drive, and just let me go along to mind the baby for you."

"Yes, I would," said Ca.s.sandra, gladly.

"Thank you. I'll run for the ponies now, ma'm."

Ca.s.sandra heard her boots clatter rapidly down the wooden stairs at the back of the house, and presently saw her das.h.i.+ng across the inn yard, bareheaded and with her bare arms rolled in her ap.r.o.n.

The girl's manner of receiving the statement that she wished to drive to the castle was not lost on Ca.s.sandra's sensitive spirit. She sat a moment, thoughtful and sad, then rose and set herself to prepare carefully for the visit. In the afternoon! Then she might wear the silk gown and lovely hat. Once more she tried to arrange her hair as she saw other young women wear theirs, and again swept its heavy ma.s.ses back loosely from her brow and coiled it low as her custom was.

The landlady's daughter chattered happily as they drove. She held the baby on her knee, and he played with the blue beads she wore about her neck, while Ca.s.sandra sat with hands dropped pa.s.sively in her lap, her body leaning a little forward, straight and poised as if to move more rapidly along, her red lips parted as if listening and waiting, and her eyes courteously turning toward the places and objects pointed out to her, yet neither seeing nor hearing, except vaguely.

Presently becoming aware that the chatter was about the family at Daneshead Castle, her interest suddenly awoke. About the old lord--how vast his possessions--how ancient the family--how neglected the castle had been ever since Lady Thryng's death,--everything allowed to run down, even though they were so vastly rich--how different everything was now the parsimonious old lord was dead and the new lord had come in, and there were once more ladies in the family--what a time since there had been a Lady Thryng at Daneshead--how much Lady Laura was like her cousin Lyon--how reckless she would be if her mother did not hold her with a firm hand--and so the chatter ran on.

The girl enjoyed the distinction of knowing all about the great family and enlightening this stranger from America, whose silent attention and occasional monosyllabic replies were sufficient to inspire her friendly efforts to entertain. Moreover, her curiosity concerning Ca.s.sandra and her errand, where she was evidently neither expected nor known, was piqued and lively, and she threw out many tentative remarks to probe if possible the stranger lady's thoughts.

"Have you ever seen Lord Thryng--the new lord, I mean, ma'm?"

"Yes," said Ca.s.sandra, simply, a chill striking to her heart to hear him mentioned thus.

"He's been out here directing the repairs himself, and getting the place ready for his mother and Lady Laura; but I never saw him. They say he's perfectly stunning. Quite the lord. Is he so very handsome, do you think?"

"Yes." Ca.s.sandra looked away from the girl's searching eyes.

"They say he never has married, and that is fortunate too; for he has lived so long in America, and never expecting to come into the t.i.tle, he might have married somebody his own set over here never could have received, and that would have been bad, wouldn't it?"

Ca.s.sandra turned and looked gravely at the girl. She wished to stop her, but could not think how to do it. She could not bear to hear her husband talked over in this way.

"They are tremendous swells. Lady Thryng looks high for him, and well she may, for mother says he's worthy of a princess, he's that rich and high bred, too, for all that he was only a doctor over in America.

Mother says it's very fortunate he never married some common sort over there. They say Lady Thryng wants him to marry Lady Geraldine Temple's daughter. She is a great beauty, and has a pretty fortune in her own right, too. They'll be rich enough to entertain the king! And they may do it, too, some day."

Ca.s.sandra sat still and cold. She could not stop the girl now. "Lady Laura's coming out is to be next week, so his lords.h.i.+p must be home soon. They say it will be a very grand affair! And I am to see it all, for mother says she will have a maid, and I may go out there to serve, and I shall see all the decorations and the fine dresses. That will be fine, won't it, baby?"

She untied the blue beads and dangled them before the baby's eyes, and he caught at them and gurgled in baby glee. Ca.s.sandra sat silent, rigid, and cold, unheeding the child or the girl, only vaguely hearing the chatter.

"And that will be grand, won't it, baby? But he is a love, this boy!

There is Daneshead Castle now, ma'm. You see it through the trees, but the grounds are so large we have to drive a good bit before we are there."

The driver turned the ponies' heads, and they scampered through a high stone gateway and along a smooth road which wound through a dense wood, with green open s.p.a.ces interspersed, where deer were browsing. All was very beautiful and quiet and sweet, but Ca.s.sandra, sitting with wide-open eyes, gravely beautiful, did not see it.

To the girl everything was delightful. She had not the slightest doubt that the American lady was very rich. That she travelled so simply and alone was nothing. They all did queer things--the Americans. She was obtusely unconscious that she had been speaking slightingly of them to one of themselves, and she talked on after the romantic manner of girls the world over, giving the gossip of the inn parlors as she listened to it evening after evening, where the affairs of the n.o.bility were freely discussed and enlarged and commented upon with eager interest.

What was spoken in her ladys.h.i.+p's chamber and Lady Laura's boudoir--their half-formed plans and aspirations--carelessly dropped words and unfinished sentences--quickly travelled to the housekeeper's parlor--to the servant's table--to the haunts of grooms and stable boys--to the farmer's daughters--and to the public rooms of the Queensderry Inn.

Thus it was Ca.s.sandra heard tales of the brother and sister and mother of her David, and of him also. How it was said that once he was engaged to a rich tradesman's daughter but had broken it off and gone to America against the wishes of all his family, and had become a common pract.i.tioner there to the disgust of all his relatives; and again Ca.s.sandra felt that she had left a sweet and lovely world behind her to step into "Vanity Fair."

She tried to hold fast her faith in goodness and high purpose. She was sure--sure--David had been moved by n.o.ble motives; why should she not trust him now? Did this girl know him better than she--his wife? Yet, in spite of her valiant spirit, two facts fell like leaden weights upon her heart. David had not told his people that he had a wife, and they would be offended that he had "tied himself to a common sort over there." This David whom she loved was so high above her in the eyes of all his relatives and perhaps even in his own. What--ah, what could she do!

Might she still hold him in her heart? She could not walk in upon them now and betray him--never--never.

Her lips grew pale, and her head swam, but she sat still, leaning a little forward in the moving phaeton, her hands tightly clasped in her lap and her babe unheeded at her side, until the red returned to her lips and again burned in a clearly defined spot against the pallor of her cheek. She did not know that a strange, unearthly beauty was hers. A carriage met them filled with gay people. She did not notice them, but they gazed at her and turned to look again as they pa.s.sed.

"I say, you know!" said one of the men, as they whirled by.

"There, that was Lady Geraldine Temple in that carriage, and the young man who stared so hard is her son. They've been paying a visit, or maybe they've brought Lady Clara to stay a bit. They say both families are keen for the match--and why shouldn't they be? Oh, they'll entertain the king here some day, and then there'll be high times at Daneshead!"

An automobile flashed by them, and then another. "There must be a party here to-day, or likely it's visitors dropping in, now it's getting toward tea time. It's all right, ma'm," she added, as Ca.s.sandra stirred uneasily. "It must be only visitors, or I would have heard of it.

They're keeping open house now, though they don't go anywhere themselves yet. You see it's a year since the deaths, so they could mourn them all at once, and not spin it along. They had to wait a year before Lady Laura's coming out--rightly. Let the ponies walk now, driver. I beg pardon, ma'm." The girl had so taken possession of Ca.s.sandra, the baby, and the whole expedition, that she gave the order unthinkingly.

"Yes, let them walk," said Ca.s.sandra, and drew a long breath. She heard gay laughter, and caught sight through the trees of light dresses and wide, plumed hats. Some one sat on the terrace at a table whereon was s.h.i.+ning silver.

"There, I said so! That's Lady Clara pouring tea. I say, but she's a beauty! Isn't she? No, no. Go to the front, driver. American ladies don't call at the side."

"There's a hautomobile there, ma'm."

"Then wait a moment. Don't be a stupid."

Thus, aided by the innkeeper's clever daughter, Ca.s.sandra at last made her entrance properly and was guided to the presence of David's mother, who had not joined her guests, having but just closed an interview with Mr. Stretton. As she saw Ca.s.sandra standing in the drawing-room waiting her, Lady Thryng came graciously forward. The lovely August weather had tempted every one out of doors, and the great room was left empty save for these two, David's mother and his wife.

The beauty of other-worldliness which had infused Ca.s.sandra's whole being as she fought her silent battle during the long drive, still enveloped her. If she could have followed her impulses, she would have held out both hands and cried: "Take me and love me. I am David's wife."